


AU Adventures

by PawneePorpoise



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 12, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dean in Denial, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Trickster Gabriel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2018-10-24 02:25:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10732218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PawneePorpoise/pseuds/PawneePorpoise
Summary: The one in which Gabriel comes up with a plan to give Dean and Castiel the nudge they need to admit their true feelings. But how many of the Trickster's little games will they have to play through before he gets his point across.-Season 12 divergence, Gabriel never died





	1. The Trick in the Archangel

**Author's Note:**

> This is a WIP I've been working on for awhile. The tags will be expanded as new chapters are posted as to not give away which popular AUs and Tropes they'll be experiencing on Gabriel's Wild Ride. Also, the rating is being set at max though for now the highest my chapters really have gone are Mature. There will absolutely for sure be NO Major Character Death, so don't worry. 
> 
> At least initially my post schedule will be every Tuesday. Once I get the final couple of chapters written I might speed it up because I'm not very patient. <3

Things are good. Back to normal, well- Winchester normal anyway. 

After the mess of a year they all suffered through, Sam and Dean Winchester finally trade biblical family dilemmas for mundane household drama, though this time they have a mother to break up their sibling squabbles. 

Indeed, Mary Winchester was brought back from Heaven by God’s sister (of all people) as Dean’s prize for being a good little soldier in yet another war he had no desire to partake in. So the Men of Letters bunker that had become their home is now complete with an additional Winchester and 100% more Angel, as Castiel, free of Lucifer’s possession, moves into a spare bedroom at the end of the hall. 

It’s been a couple weeks of everyone living together in peace and they actually manage to work out a pretty good schedule of day to day life.

Dean does laundry on Mondays. This isn’t new, as their typical Sunday return from week-long hunts means he crashes straight into bed, waking Monday to a bag of blood stained clothing and nothing clean to wear. These past few Mondays the clothing is a little less repulsive, and the company is a lot more welcome. As Castiel now typically accompanies him to the Bunker’s basement laundromat with a healthy amount of curiosity about exactly how clothing is sorted, treated, washed, and dried. Castiel has actually taken to a lot of the household chores other people find mundane. But hey, if Dean has someone to share in his busy work, he isn’t complaining.

Tuesdays are Sam’s shower day. Not that he and the rest of the family don’t shower on days other than Tuesday, it's just that this particular day they have a very specific order to follow. See, Mary turned out to be a pretty early riser, even by Dean 4-Hour-A-Night Winchester standards. So typically she has the first shower of the day. 

But on Tuesdays Sam wakes up early for a run, and if he isn’t able to run straight into the shower when he gets back they all find out very quickly that the smell of sweat once in the bunker, stays in the bunker for the greater part of the day. Turns out air circulation underground isn’t as great as you’d hope for. So Tuesday, Sam gets the first shower, and the rest of them just have to wait. It really was for their own good anyway. 

Wednesday was Castiel’s favorite night of the week, though he’d never openly admit that for fear of jinxing a good thing. Family dinner night is a tradition started by Dean in an attempt to recreate some of those memories of his early childhood he never dreamed of having again in this life. Everyone was expected to make at least one part of the meal with whoever made dessert also signing up to do the dishes since, as Dean so eloquently puts it, “You know me, I love a good slice of pie, but desserts are a cop out. Way less work any any of the other parts.” For Castiel, who has only witnessed the human tradition of gathering together at the end of the day for a meal from afar, actually getting to experience these nights firsthand, and with people who call him one of their family- There is no greater honor as far as he's concerned. 

The quietest night of the week is Thursday. Everyone usually keeps to themselves doing research for new cases, catching up on TV, reading, or in Castiel’s case, tending to his garden. It really isn't surprising to Dean that the Angel has a green thumb. The guy was probably around when the first blade of grass sprouted through the crust making up the early surface of the Earth. And with how often he’d go on lectures about the importance of maintaining colony populations in North American bees, he also knows all there was to know about planting the correct mixture of native flower species to attract insects of all varieties. 

On Thursdays, if Dean finishes a book and wants to talk about it, if Sam wants some fresh air and quiet scenery, or if Mary needs a place to collect her thoughts in her journal, they come up to the Bunker’s rooftop garden and Castiel is happy to allow them their peace while he works. 

Friday is movie night. Originally started because when Dean realized his mother hadn’t seen a single one of his favorite movies made in the past 20 years he almost had an aneurysm. These secretly become Dean’s favorite nights, after what starts as watching one movie evolves into watching 2 or sometimes 3 as one by one Mary and Sam drop off to sleep leaving Dean and Castiel to finish any impromptu marathons they’ve begun. On those late nights, sprawled on the couch, twin sets of feet propped up on the coffee table, bowl of popcorn between them, Dean allows himself to embrace a little bit of the comfort that comes from having a best friend to spend time with free of any stressors threatening their existence. 

And if Dean’s hand bumps Castiel’s more than once on it's way into the popcorn bowl, the wink and the grin he gives Cas is just because he likes teasing his friend who apparently is easily driven to blush at the simplest of actions. In those moments, late at night, every exhale feels a little like letting go. He's safe, Castiel's safe and right next to him. His mother and brother are safely sleeping in their own rooms, and there is no apocalypse looming on the horizon. Yes, these nights, Dean Winchester feels like maybe they can keep this up. Maybe this can work and on really good nights, after really good weeks of no hunting or fighting for his life, Dean thinks that maybe he’s earned this happy ending after all. 

 

The rest of the week isn’t scheduled, as Saturdays and Sundays are a mixed bag, really. Once they start taking cases again they’re most always off working. Driving to or from whatever small town needs their assistance, but more often than not, much to Mary’s relief, they are home, just enjoying life with family they never thought they’d get to have. 

This particular night is a Wednesday, and dinner long since finished, Mary is in the kitchen washing dishes. She had caved in to Dean’s requests, making an apple pie that she is pretty sure he approves of as he utters something sounding suspiciously like “awesome” with a mouth stuffed full of apples and flaky crust. Even now, Dean is sitting across the kitchen with another slice on a plate in front of him. Castiel to his right, apprehension on his face as he watches Dean eye the plate, like maybe Castiel should stop Dean from overindulging but unsure if his words would really make any difference in the end. 

Rinsing off another plate, Mary is about to set it in the drying rack when Sam steps up to take it from her hands, wiping it down with one of the fluffy new kitchen towels she had insisted on purchasing if she was going to be living with them for awhile. She smiles at him wordlessly, gladly accepting the help. All this food is making her tired and the sooner she finishes the sooner she can retire to her room for the night. 

Mary knows she can’t stay hidden away in the bunker forever, if for no other reason than what mother wants to live at home with her two adult sons? But integrating into 2016 after so long in Heaven is taking a bit of time understandably. Her nights are restless as she alternates between dreams so vivid she wakes up unsure which existence is real, and insomnia on the nights when shutting down her brain enough to pass out is an impossible task. Caught up in her own melancholy she almost misses that Sam has begin speaking.

“Clearly your pie was a big hit, mom.” He says softly, smiling with a passing glance over at Dean who is now trying to get through another fork full of apples. 

“With some of us more so than others.” Mary replies with a laugh. “You’d think he was just discovering it for the first time, huh?” 

“I don’t know how he isn’t dead from all the garbage he eats. Our lives are dangerous enough, why tempt fate even more?” Sam replies, but despite the harshness of his words, his tone and small smile show Mary this is just another one of her children’s never-ending squabbles. 

“It seems to me,” Mary begins, pausing herself to look over her shoulder at Dean, “if indulging in pie makes him that happy, then it’s worth the hit to his diet.” 

“I don’t think it's the pie that’s making him that happy.” Sam mumbles under his breath, but Mary is quicker than he expected. Trained to pick up on the slightest of sounds and standing so close at the sink, she hears quite clearly what Sam mumbles. 

“Ah, so there _is_ something going on between them then.” Mary mutters, more like a thought accidentally spoken aloud, than something actually proclaimed for Sam to hear. 

Sam’s eyes shoot over to her, and she sees for a moment surprise, followed by a flash of uncertainty, before Sam schools his features back to his carefully crafted neutral expression. 

“What do you mean?”, he stats slowly. Clearly waiting for her reaction to that revelation. Maybe he isn’t sure if someone plucked out of time has caught up to the social progress made in the last 30 years, or if his mother would approve of a relationship between her eldest son and a person who really wasn’t a person by species at all. 

Sensing his nervousness, Mary sets down the last dish in the drying rack and reaches to gently place a hand on top of Sam’s. “It’s obvious is all. I may not have been around to watch either of my sons grow up, but I haven’t forgotten what it looks like to see two people who have fallen in love.” Mary pauses to glance over at Dean and Cas again, and Sam watches a fond, almost nostalgic smile flit across her features. Barely a whisper, Mary continues, “John used to look at me the same way. If Dean’s happy, I’m happy.” 

The warmth spreading in Sam’s chest contrasts greatly with the twinge of sadness at his mother’s words. “That’s how I feel too. He’s my brother. I’ve watched him go through more Hell, both literally and figuratively, in our lives than anyone on Earth and he’s still here. He deserves some happiness. Too bad he’s completely clueless when it comes to Cas. It’s like they don’t even realize they’re doing it.” Sam finishes with a chuckle when he really thoinks about the absurdity of it all. 

Mary is softly laughing now too. “You’d figure with how great of a hunter I’ve heard him to be, he’d at least be able to pick up on some clues right in front of his face.” 

Sam can’t hold back his full volume laugh at his mother’s joke. Her sense of humor is right up to caliber with their own, clearly that apple hasn’t fallen far from the tree. 

At hearing the commotion at the sink, Dean snaps out of his Cas induced daze and frowns at his mother and brother, obviously feeling left out of whatever is so funny. 

“Hey, what’s going on over there? Don’t tell me you’ve finally snapped Sammy. I told you all that hair product was bad for your brain.” Dean playfully tosses the insults at Sam, knowing perfectly well how he’ll respond. 

Immediately Dean is met with Sam’s Grump Face™ (as he likes to refer to it in his head), “Shut up, jerk.” 

“All right bit-” Dean is about to finish with his typical come back, when he glances to Sam’s left and is caught under his mother’s stare. She had admonished them both before for using those words to describe each other, and despite them both being perfectly grown men who don’t need to follow their mother’s orders, (not that her use of language is really any cleaner) they’d both be lying if they said they didn’t kind of enjoy occasionally being treated like children, since they missed that experience earlier in life. 

“Uh-” Dean awkwardly continues, glancing over at Cas to find the angel’s furrowed brows and squinting eyes peering back at him, “so, great dinner, but I’m definitely full. Should probably be heading off to bed now right? Early day tomorrow with some new case research. Good night everyone!” 

And with that Dean uncomfortably makes his exit from the kitchen. 

Mary and Sam just continue laughing, before Cas stands from his seat at the table, bringing Dean’s dirty dishes over to where they are standing. Mary reaches out to take them from Cas, who smiles back at her. “Thank you again Mary. Even though I do not particularly enjoy the taste of food, it’s all just mole-”

“Molecules.” She interrupts, “I know, Castiel.” 

“Yes, molecules. But, your pie is actually delicious. I don’t know what it is about pie, but it is certainly something I am glad to be able to partake in.”  
Mary smiles at him again, nodding her thanks, and Cas steps away to also take his leave for the evening.

“Goodnight to both of you. I will speak with you tomorrow, but for now I must go attend to something.” And with that Cas leaves the kitchen as well. 

“Yeah, if by _something_ you mean _Dean_.” Sam blurts out. 

This time neither of them hold back their uncontrollable laughter. 

X-X-X

A little later, after Mary retires to her room for the night, Sam makes his way down the long hallway to his own bed. Flipping on the lightswitch, Sam closes and locks the door behind him, moving across the space to flop down on top of the covers. 

“Long day?”, a voice asks from across the room. 

“Hmpf.” Sam provides as a reply, sinking further into the mattress, letting his eyes fall shut. 

“You know, I have a pretty good idea of how to remedy that situation with your brother and his BFF,” the confident voice says, a little closer this time. 

“Oh yeah? Another one of your plans, I’m sure that’ll end well for everyone involved.” Sam grumbles. He's not actually having a bad day, but his need for sleep is outweighing his desire for conversation and he just wants to relax. 

“Have a little faith, Sam. I promise everyone will be returned with all limbs intact, okay?” Drowsy as he is, Sam acknowledges the bed dipping beside him, and the warmth as a body presses into his side. 

“Alright, yeah, sure, whatever, just no scarred for life type of things, okay?” Sam mumbles out, as he settles further into the comfort of the bed. 

“Absolutely. Your wish is my command. Now, get some sleep Samsquatch,” a voice whispers into Sam’s ear. 

“Goodnight Gabe.” comes his reply, the last thing he says before falling off to a warm and content sleep.


	2. The Hunter in the Hospital

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean awakes the next morning, but not quite in the same place he went to bed last night.

~:~:~ _Dean_ ~:~:~

Dean Winchester is getting old. As it turns out, while capable of functioning with only four hours of sleep, like he has for the majority of his life, his body now happily consumes six sometimes even eight hours of blissful unconsciousness before springing him back to the waking world. 

This morning, as he slowly fades back into the new day, Dean can tell it has been significantly longer than four hours since he went to bed. Their dinner last night was pretty filling and there is a lot of truth to the heaviness of slumber after a meal of roast turkey, _which I prepared expertly_ he thinks to himself. So it only makes sense that he’s slept a couple extra hours. It’s not like he has anywhere to be today. 

Another indication that 30 years of hunting are catching up to him? Presently his joints feel like they’re welded straight. Every vertebrae creaking as he stretches and arches his back against the mattress. 

Usually his memory foam keeps him from waking up like this, and as hindsight would later make clear, the fact that he is waking up without avoiding this ailment should have been his first clue something is wrong. 

Instead, as the sounds of his room fade into the foreground it is the incessant rhythmic beeping that throws up a red flag. His bedroom does not have any device that sounds like.. _Oh fuck_. 

Eyes flying open Dean confirms his suspicions. He is lying in a hospital bed, and if the now quicker rate of the beeping is any indication, that is the feedback from the heart rate monitor clipped onto his finger. Having no memory of being injured or leaving his bedroom in the Bunker to end up at a hospital his first thoughts are to catalog his injuries. 

But of course things get weirder, because Dean isn’t feeling any pain. At all. Anywhere. Actually, it's strange, because some of the parts of him that are typically aching or sore from old injuries that never healed correctly are also totally fine. Every last little nagging joint pain has magically floated away.

But he’ll figure out that weirdness later. First, he needs to get out of here. Lifting his arm to remove the heat rate monitor, he catches sight of the hospital bracelet fastened around his wrist. 

**Seattle Mercy Hospital  
** Patient: Winchester, Dean  
DOB: 1-24-79 

_Wait a second, Seattle Mercy Hos- Oh hell._

“Not this again.” Dean grumbles angrily. Of course he recognizes the hospital name from the bracelet. It is Dr. Sexy’s hospital in the show, and he guesses, more relevant to his current situation, the same fake hospital he and Sam were trapped in by the arch-dick Gabriel a few years prior. 

But how is this even possible? Isn’t the Archangel dead? Or was that in itself just another one of his tricks? Fed up, Dean is just about to start screaming for Gabriel to get his feathered-ass in here when the door to his room swings open and a white lab coat comes swooshing through the doorway. 

Dean’s head snaps up, ready to tell the “Doc” that he isn’t sticking around for whatever exam he thinks is necessary. But then he catches a look at the doctor's face and,

“Cas?” 

Relieved at the familiar face of his friend Dean figures this will be the easy lifeline he needs. Cas can just zap them out of here and they can figure it all out once they are home. 

“Good morning, Dean. Are you ready to go home?” Cas says as he stops at the foot of the bed, picking up the chart, flipping through the pages. 

Dean thinks it's a little odd that Cas is bothering to look at what is obviously a fake medical chart but then not everything Cas does is always normal.

“Uh, yeah, obviously, Cas. I can't wait for us to get out of here. Head home.” 

Cas still isn't looking at him but that doesn't stop Dean from noticing a distinct blush creeping across the angel's cheeks. 

Clearing his throat awkwardly, Cas does finally look at him before speaking.  
“ _Ahem_ \- well, I've signed all the necessary paperwork needed for your discharge. Remember to take it easy for the next couple weeks. Absolutely, no excess physical exertion. It was a pleasure having you with us Mr. Winchester but I hope to not need to see you in here again.” Then with a small polite very professional smile with an accompanying nod, Cas is on his way out of the room. 

“What the fuck?” Dean mutters. Clearly Cas is affected differently by whatever is going on in this fantasy world. Stunned for a minute he realizes he has to figure this out and Cas is currently walking away. So jumping out of the bed he runs out into the hall trying to spot which way Cas has run off to. He hasn't gotten far actually and Dean rushes to catch up to him easily. He can tell the moment Cas hears the call of his name because his back stiffens and he glances back and forth almost like he is looking for a place to hide. 

Dean catches up to him, reaching out to grab his arm to get him to turn around when suddenly Cas is grabbing his shoulder and shoving him down an empty hallway into an unused examination room. As soon as the door shuts behind them Dean spins around out of Cas’ grasp, already annoyed at this weird game he's forced into, Dean doesn’t need any additional weirdness from Cas to add to the drama. 

“Cas, what the hell are you doing?” Dean's been pretty loud yelling after Cas in the hallway, and now that they are alone in this room he still hasn’t lowered his volume. 

“Mr. Winchester would you please quiet down before you alert every last person in this wing of the hospital!” Cas shouts back. 

“Alright fine, but what is wrong with you man? And stop calling me _Mr. Winchester_ it’s freakin' weirding me out.” Dean takes a deep breath to calm himself, stepping back to lean against the exam table, one of the only pieces of furniture in the small room.

“Thank you- Dean.” Cas begins, at a normal volume, clearly more comfortable now that Dean had stopped yelling, though the way he uses his first name sounds like he is trying out the sound of it in his mouth, unfamiliar or not quite a word he uses frequently.

“Now, I appreciate your, persistence, despite knowing my rules about fraternizing with patients you _are_ no longer a patient of his hospital as of today. So-”

Dean is beyond confused as to what is happening in this conversation. He feels like he missed out on one major plot point and his brain is working overtime trying to catch up. Opening his mouth, no words come out, and he must look like an idiot because Cas shows just the tiniest hint of a smirk as he steps closer into Dean’s space. 

Pulling a small piece of paper, _is that a business card?_ \- out of his pocket, Cas reaches forward to slide it into Dean’s shirt pocket with a wink, “I get out of work at 8 tonight, you can pick me up out front.” and then Cas is gone, back out the door into the hallway leaving Dean behind with his jaw on the floor. 

Slowly regaining his higher brain functions after that unexpected turn of events, Dean reaches into his pocket, pulling out what he now sees is definitely a business card. 

**Dr. Castiel Novak  
** Specialist of Internal Medicine  
Seattle Mercy Hospital 

**Tel. (206)555-5555  
Email: CNovak@smhospital.org **

Flipping it over, Dean is faced with impeccable handwriting, especially for a doctor. The small capital script conveying a much less professional message than the front of the card would lend itself to. 

‘ _Dean- I’d say it’s about time we got that drink ;)_ ’

As weirdly horrifying as this whole situation is, Dean has a moment of clarity, like a light bulb switching on in his head. Cas isn’t joking around with him. In fact, as far as he can tell, this isn’t even a game to Cas at all. It is real. Wherever he is, while it seems like a fantasy made-up illusion to him, it sure as hell isn’t for the other people existing in this space. The hospital, Dr. Castiel Novak, the date he’d just accidentally accepted for that evening, it is all real while he is trapped in this space. 

And while he was first relieved to see the angel entering his room the sudden realization that in every way that actually matters it isn’t his Cas at all has him panicking all over again. Because as far as Dean can tell, he is stuck in this mockery of a place all by himself, and he hasn’t the first idea of how to escape. 

It is then that another horrible thought jumps to the forefront. If he is stuck here, was anyone else also affected? Just because this Castiel is fake, doesn’t mean the real one isn’t living the same experience in another warped fantasy world. What about Sam, his mom? 

The worry for his family wins out over his concern for his own situation, and he does what he’s done for decades of messed up situations. He takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly, and he focuses.  
Step One: Figure out how to escape.  
Step Two: Make sure everyone else is safe.  
Step Three: Find and kill the son-of-a-bitch who created this whole nightmare.

Since he is still alone in this room and it doesn't seem like anyone is coming in to bother him he takes the time to catalog his present state. Thankfully when he woke up on that bed he was wearing what appears to be his normal clothing. Well-worn jeans, standard concert tee, and flannel. It easily could have been one of those embarrassing hospital gowns- _Thank God for small miracles_. 

Checking his pockets, he pulls out, Not-Cas’ business card, a cell phone, a wallet with a fake ID and a couple of bucks, and a pair of car keys which is hopes are for his Baby. 

He thinks back to the last time he woke up in a situation like this, it was definitely different. For one, Sam had been actual Sam, not some alternate universe copy of his brother. Why he was shown this weird version of Castiel is still not making any sense to him and feels a little too much like when he’d traveled to the future (unwillingly) and met 2014 hippie-drugged-up Cas. Quickly shaking that memory away, he thinks more about his time in the Trickster's web. Sam and him had escaped eventually by playing along with Gabriel’s plots. Acting their parts until he was satisfied. He isn’t sure if that’s what was happening here, hell he isn’t even sure who put him here, or where here even is. But it is his best lead to go on. 

So he formulats a plan of action. Looking at the time on his phone, it is almost 6pm now, two hours before he is supposed to pick up the good Doctor for their- _date?_ \- or whatever it is. He decides to head out of the hospital, go find his car, and then see if he can figure out any other details that might help him, until it is time to meet Castiel at 8. 

Honestly there is still a part of him that hopes Cas was just taking longer somehow to wake up and when he shows up later it will be his angel waiting for him. But somehow, it is hard to be optimistic in the face of that awkward conversation he’d had with the guy only a short while ago. 

One more deep breath, and he swings open the door to the exam room, stepping out into the hallway.  
_Alright, let’s go find my ride._


	3. The Hero on the Homestead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel wakes up the next morning in a place far flung from where he remembered spending his evening the night before. But who is this weird version of Dean and what exactly is going on with this bizarro world he's trapped in?

~:~:~ _Castiel_ ~:~:~

Castiel woke up lying down. While not unheard of for most people, as an Angel who didn’t ever need to sleep, it wasn’t often he woke up from slumber, especially not on the ground. 

Usually, he would have associated this type of waking up with being recently banished by his least favorite sigil, but he had none of the physical pain and discomfort that usually brought. Instead the last thing he remembered was being in the bunker at night after their family dinner. 

Those dinners were something of a new ritual for the Winchesters but Castiel lived for them.  
The four of them, sitting together around the kitchen table, eating- well in Cas’ case mostly watching Mary, Sam and Dean eat- a homecooked meal, sharing stories and laughing together. It was Heaven really. Or as close as Cas could find to Heaven while on Earth. 

After that particular family dinner he sat with Dean at the table, thoroughly enjoying himself as he watched Dean shamelessly shovel piece after piece of pie into his mouth. Cas really thought he might warn Dean of the potential health risks associated with the consumption of that quantity of baked goods but he had a feeling it would all fall on deaf ears. 

Later that night after leaving the rest of Dean’s dirty dishes with Mary and Sam he had run into Dean in the hallway outside Dean’s room. 

Dean had given him an easy smile, which Cas was helpless to stop himself from returning. It warmed him to see his friend so happy and at ease. This was a far cry from the Dean Winchester he has met 8 years prior, and Cas hoped this existence they were sharing would be their New Normal going forward. 

As they passed each other in the hall, Dean reached out to give Cas a pat on the shoulder and a small nod goodnight. Cas was thankful Angels didn’t have the capacity to blush. 

He wasn’t an idiot. He might not have been able to characterize these feelings initially when he experienced them, but with a little bit more human experience under his belt, Castiel knew this was not the way most humans felt about their platonic best friends. But for as much as Cas wasn’t hindered by the typical social constraints that most people on Earth were wary of- after all what were labels like sexual orientation or behaviors like social norms to a being that existed mostly as a wavelength of celestial intent for millennia?- he was aware that Dean was still affected by these constructs, and for that reason, Castiel could never make the first move. 

While he was sure his chances of Dean even wanting a relationship different from the one they currently had were slim to none, if by some chance that was in the cards for Castiel, Dean would have to be the one to initiate their change of behavior. Because for Cas to risk it himself, and potentially read the situation incorrectly would be to drive Dean away, possibly forever, and Cas wasn’t willing to risk their friendship for potentially something more. 

Memories of last night aside, Cas’ internal dialog was suddenly interrupted by footsteps approaching. He’d been so lost in thought he hadn’t realized anyone else was near him, and as he opened his eyes to the harsh sun above he could do nothing but squint at the silhouette of the figure standing overhead. 

“You alright there, buddy?” A thick southern drawl worked it’s way to Cas’ ears. The voice distinctly recognizable as Dean’s yet- that hearty of an accent was typically only reserved for Dean’s drunkest of moments. 

Bringing his hand up to shield his eyes from the sun, Cas could now make out the face, and yep, that was Dean alright. But since when had Dean picked up a cowboy hat? Actually now that Cas was looking, no part of Dean’s outfit was familiar, from the tucked in button up, oversized silver belt buckle, down to the well-worn leather cowboy boots only a foot or so away from Cas’ still prone form. 

It was only after an awkward 30 seconds of staring did Castiel notice the hand outstretched towards him, clearly an offer to help him off the ground. Reaching up to accept Dean’s help, their hands met and a spark shot through Cas’s body. This was Dean alright, definitely human, but something about him felt off. It was just wrong, but Cas couldn’t put his finger on what exactly it was that’s bothering him. 

“You’re lucky I found ya’ out here when I did. Ya’ don’t exactly look prepared to be out in the desert in this heat.” Dean had released his hand as soon as Castiel was stable on his feet, but hadn’t stepped too far away. He looked unsure if Cas was really going to hold up on his own, ready to swoop in and stop him from faceplanting back into the dirt if necessary. 

Still a little disoriented, Castiel took a moment to look at his surroundings. They were definitely out in the desert, though exactly where he couldn’t be sure as there was seemingly nothing around them for miles. 

It was then that Cas laid eyes on a well-behaved horse standing just off to the side. That must have been what Dean rode in on and he must have really been in a daze if he hadn’t heard those footsteps coming his way. 

Dean’s also looking around too, probably trying to figure out how Cas got out here with no supplies or mode of transportation in sight. “You lost or something?” Dean asks, clearly drawn to the same conclusion as Castiel that there is no easy way for him to return to civilization. “I didn’t see any tire treads on the road, and there’s no car nearby. Were you riding and lost your horse? How long were you out here walking?” 

Cas honestly doesn’t know the answer to the questions Dean’s asking and as he retraces his last memories again for any clues his lack of response is clearly troubling to Dean - well actually. Not _his_ Dean. Cas may not be at full power, but he can tell that while in all ways visible this appears to be a mirror image of his best friend, there’s some piece that’s not quite part of the authentic original. And that piece makes this feel more like an alternate version of Dean than the real thing he was expecting. But he doesn’t feel the need for fear. This isn’t a creature posing as his friend bent on harming him. A hand on Cas’ shoulder shook him out of his thoughts.

Dean was looking at him, brows furrowed, concern evident in his features. “Hey, man, I think you might need some water. Why don’t I give you a ride back to my place and you can take a few to get your head on straight. The heat must be gettin’ to ya.” 

With no better plan formulated, Cas nodded once in the affirmative, before glancing over at the horse standing patiently on the side of the road. He must have looked a little more skeptical than he meant to because soon Dean was chuckling to himself. A familiar comforting sound that Cas was embarrassed to admit always brought a warm fuzzy feeling to his core. 

“Not so familiar with ridin’ horses are you?” Dean smirked.

“I have” Cas replied firmly, “It’s just been awhile.” He followed up a little less confidently.

“I guessed as much with that suit you have on and the coat. Not too many ranchers out here with that kinda getup. But it's easy, all you have to do is hold on.” Dean flashed him a smile rivaling the sun as he led the way over to his horse, Cas close behind. 

“Now, oh-” Dean held his hand out for Castiel to shake. "I forgot my manners. I’m Dean Winchester by the way.”

Cas was quick enough thankfully to play along, taking Dean’s hand once again, that familiar-yet-not spark kicking his heart rate up a notch. “Castiel Wi-, erm, Novak. Castiel Novak. Thanks for the lift.” 

Cas prayed that Dean hadn't noticed his almost slip-up on the last name. While he wasn’t officially a Winchester in any capacity, Cas had taken to using the name as an alias when needed. It wasn’t something he spoke to Dean or Sam about, but he figured they likely wouldn’t mind if they ever found out. 

This Dean however, might find it odd that the guy he stumbled upon in the middle of the desert happens to also share his last name, so he panicked and went with his vessels’ last name, sending a silent prayer up to Jimmy for it’s use. 

“Hmm, Castiel, it’s uncommon, but I like it.” Dean smiled again, and Cas was pretty sure he was going to melt if he had to see that directed at him one more time. His Dean didn’t smile this often or this unrestrained. 

“Now, Cas” - It seems both this Dean and his own had a propensity for shortening names- “All you have to do is put your left foot right here into this stirrup and push off the ground while swinging your right leg over to the other side of the saddle. Sounds harder than it is. Give it a try, I’ll stop you from falling off the other side.” Dean chuckled again. 

Stepping up to the beautiful painted mare Cas ran his hand across her back, trying to convey his genuine intent to not hurt the animal in his attempt to mount her. He slid his foot into the stirrup and pushed off the ground just like Dean had instructed. Cas may have pushed a little too hard however, because when he swung his leg over to the other side his whole body started to go with it and soon he was moments away from flinging himself right off and back onto the ground. He flailed for a split second until he realized he wasn’t falling anymore. 

Dean was there in an instant. One hand firmly on Cas’ left ankle, the other on his waist, pulling him back upright. Cas met Dean’s eyes as he let out a relieved breath. 

“See, told ya’ I wouldn’t let ya’ fall.” 

And something about the parallelism to his and Dean’s real life story struck him in that moment, and he wished for nothing more than to be back in the bunker with his family. 

Dean must have realized he was still holding on to Cas because he cleared his throat awkwardly and stepped back a half step. “My turn” he mumbled before swinging himself up in the position behind where Cas was seated with an ease that spoke to someone who did this sort of thing on a daily basis. 

But while Dean clearly rode this horse every day, the horse wasn’t used to carrying the weight of two grown men on her back and she fidgeted under their combined weight clearly not happy to have to do this extra work today. Cas watched as Dean hushed her with careful pats to her hip until she was back to standing still, disgruntled maybe but in agreeance that she’d carry them where they needed to go at least this one time. 

“Don’t worry about her. She can handle it, she’s just spoiled.” Dean laughed as he reached around Castiel for the reigns. This of course put Dean’s chest firmly against Cas’ back and the Angel was thankful for his inability to sweat under any circumstances because the sun surely had just ratched up a notch or two. 

“Now Cas, all you have to do is hold on and let me do the rest.” and with that Dean had them off, riding briskly down this dirt road in the middle of who knows where. 

Since he had at least a few minutes until they arrived at Dean’s home Cas tried formulating a plan for how he would get out of this weird mess. First things first, he needed to figure out where he was, but thankfully this Dean seemed to enjoy small talk a lot more than his version of Dean did. 

“So Cas, I guess it wasn’t entirely a coincidence that I found you out here. All this land belongs to my family. Dad passed it down to me when he died and I’ve been keeping track of it e’er since. It’s my lil slice of Texas.” 

Ah, so he was in Texas apparently. Still not sure how he made it from Kansas to Texas with no memory of travelling here. As Dean continued speaking he was telling Cas details about the land, animals, plants, honestly who knows. Cas was distracted. As much as he should be thinking about what this whole bizarro world meant, this Dean, not _Dean_ he had to keep reminding himself, but a similar enough of a version to trigger all the same physiological responses in him, was not only seated closely against his back, body heat searing into Cas’ flesh, but he was also talking directly into Cas’ ear. Clearly as comfortable with invading his personal space as was necessary to make sure Cas heard what he was saying over the galloping of their sharing riding companion. 

After an indeterminable time (to Cas anyway) later, they arrived in front of a quaint, yet gorgeous, ranch home, clearly Dean’s own if the **Winchester Family Ranch** sign on the gate meant anything. Dean dismounted first reaching up to help steady Cas as he jumped down to solid land, and if their hands lingered for a second longer than strictly normal for strangers just meeting, well who was Cas to really judge what was appropriate for human interaction in this situation. 

“Come on inside, we’ll get you something to drink.” Dean spoke over his shoulder as he was already making his way up the steps. Cas followed slowly, taking in the detail in the craftsmanship of the large farmers porch. This looked like a more recent addition to the house, and at the top of the steps he was greeted by an old hound dog lounging in the shade next to a bowl of water. 

Dean was at the front door by this point, waiting for Cas to catch up before entering, and when Cas finally looked away from the dog and met Dean’s eyes he saw the beginnings of a small smile tugging at the corners of Dean’s mouth. 

“That’s just Rufus. Dad’s old dog. He’s harmless, lazy as all hell really, but he’s been with our family forever.” 

Cas squinted at the dog as it gave him a look that was a bit too skeptical to come from an animal. “I’m not sure he likes me.” Cas replied. 

And there it was again. Dean’s hearty laughter, smooth as bourbon, rich as honey, and entirely out of place to Cas’ ears. It was a sharp reminder that _his_ Dean didn’t often have reason to laugh that purely. And even more of a slap in the face that he needed to get it together and remember that wherever he was, this wasn’t where he was supposed to be. If he didn’t know any better he’d think this was a Djinn dream, except this Dean didn’t know who he was. 

Following Dean inside, Cas was greeted with as welcoming a house as he’d ever seen. Unlike the Bunker’s Cold War industrial feel, this home had character yet still felt lived. Strong exposed beams held up the roof, wide dark stained planks formed the flooring and the walls were a cream color amplifying the flood of natural light pouring in through the series of large almost floor to ceiling windows. Clearly living out here in the middle of nowhere had it’s perks, as you were less concerned with privacy and could focus more on the view. 

Dean was walking up to him now, boots thumping loudly on the hardwood snapping Cas out of his examination of the house. Dean extended a mason jar of water to him and Cas took it and began to drink, still unsure of his situation and whether it would be a bad idea to explain that he was in fact an Angel and they didn’t get dehydrated. As he drank he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his cell phone. 

**No Service** _Figures_. 

“Sorry, cell reception isn’t so great out here, you’re welcome to use my phone to call someone if ya want. I can help with directions if you have someone to pick you up. Or I’d be more’an happy to drop you off closer to town if you want.” Dean was handing him a cordless phone, which Castiel took, then Dean wandered off outside to feed Rufus. 

Cas thought for a minute about who to call. His obvious first choice was Dean’s cell, but dialing that just gave him a _Number No Longer In Service_ message. He wasn’t entirely surprised. Whatever was trapping him in this alternate reality clearly wasn’t going to make getting in touch with his friends that simple. When he was out of numbers to try, he decided to focus on this magic energy he felt surrounding this world. Maybe if he could narrow down exactly what he was dealing with he’d have a better chance of escaping sooner rather than later. 

He closed his eyes, focusing on the current of power closest to his location. He could sense Dean and Rufus on the porch. Dean may look like an exact replica of his own but it’s the inspection of his soul where Castiel sees a stark contrast. This soul still shines brightly, but it’s missing some of it's character. Sure, if given the choice Cas would have chosen to never have his best friend forced to live through so much trauma and heartache, but he can’t deny that the soul he rescued from Hell, nurtured and rebuilt into Dean Winchester _Righteous Man, Hunter Extraordinaire_ would always be the most breathtaking to his Angelic eyes. Pushing aside the beings outside, Castiel tried to focus on anything else out of place. Moving further into the house it was when he neared the kitchen that he picked up on something with a little extra spark. Opening his vessel’s eyes, Cas saw the cause of the anomaly. The kitchen counters were piled up with stacks of chocolate bars and bag upon bag of candy in every assorted flavor presumably on Earth. 

By all indications, this cowboy version of Dean lived alone, no children in sight, and with how muscular and fit his body had felt riding behind Cas on the horse, -which he absolutely was not thinking about- it seemed unlikely he was gorging himself on sweets on a daily basis. 

Dean had reentered the house and found Cas standing in his kitchen. 

“Oh, uh,” Dean started, and when Cas looked at him he almost seemed embarrassed by the contents on his counter, “Yeah, I’m not usually one for this kinda junk, but for some reason when I was in town yesterday I just had this urge to buy some candy. Then I couldn’t decide…” Dean trailed off, bringing his hand up to awkwardly clasp at the back of his neck.

 _Well that nervous habit at least seemed to carry over_ , thought Cas. So if the candy wasn’t Dean’s typical type of grocery purchase, and he didn’t even seem too sure why he bought it, then this whole situation definitely reeked of Gabriel. And now that he was looking for it, the Archangel turned Trickster’s markings were all over the magic building this fantasy world. Still not sure why Gabriel, apparently alive this whole time, would keep himself hidden from his brother. Castiel knew this wasn’t the first time throughout history that the Archangel had played this little game with him, though why now was still unclear.

Dean was staring at him again. Probably because he’d been talking to Cas during his inward rambling and the lack of reply had Dean just looking somehow even more concerned. Cas doesn’t know how to answer at this point, because what does he even say? “Sorry, my previously-thought-dead archangel-brother is actually alive and for some reason trapped me in a fantasy world with you, a mirror image of my best friend, who I maybe have very non-best-friend feelings for, expect you aren’t him and I have no idea how to escape or if any of the rest of my family is trapped here too.” Probably wouldn’t go over too well. 

So he says the only thing he can think of, gesturing to the phone still in his hand. “No one answered.” 

Dean’s face flashes a look of pity but only for a second, then his apparent caregiver nature takes over and he’s offering Cas a room to rest in for a bit until he can think of where to go or what to do next. 

Castiel accepts the offer because at the very least it will give him time alone, away from Dean, to further evaluate his situation and think of a plan, and so maybe a part of him also gathers some comfort in having a familiar face around while he’s dealing with this conundrum. 

Dean brings him to a guest bedroom down the hall and insists he lay down for as long as he needs. Sure, Cas doesn’t need sleep per se, but zoning out and allowing his vessel the appearance of sleep while he focuses his energies on surveying the greater powers at work here isn’t a bad idea. Maybe there’s a weak point he can focus in on, like when Dean and Sam were trapped in that strange TV land and he was able to barge through if only for a little while. 

In the bedroom, the last thing Castiel sees is Dean’s furrowed brow and cautious smile peeking through the opening of the door as he quietly shuts it. “Get some rest, Cas.” 

And he does just that.


	4. The Date with the Doctor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean follows through on his accidental agreed upon date with Dr. Castiel Novak.

\- Dean -

As it turns out, Dean’s luck is still intact. And by intact, that means completely obsolete. As he makes his way out of the hospital and into the parking garage across the street, Dean slides the single keyring in his pocket out into the light for its first real inspection. 

The small blocky silver item hangs solely on a worn out metal ring, and certainly doesn’t look like the one that belongs to his beloved Baby. It’s definitely still to an older car though, but with the key entirely unbranded he’s at a loss for where to start.

So, with a deep sigh and a resigned attitude, Dean begins his slow, methodical trek, floor-by-floor through the 6 story parking garage, searching for whatever (probably ludacris) vehicle this probable Trickster left for him to drive. 

45 minutes later, after embarrassingly trying no less than four pre-2000 model-year clunkers with no success, Dean climbs the stairs to the third floor and is brought up short by what he finds parked directly in front of him. 

“Ugh, why me?”, he groans as he steps up to the driver’s side of a familiar late-70’s Lincoln Continental. One of his hands traces the trim along the light gold painted exterior as the other tries the key, half hoping it won’t unlock this hideous pimp-mobile of a car. 

Dean recalls making fun of Cas for choosing to drive this very same model a few years prior and well, while he doesn’t really believe in Karmic revenge, this feels a lot like that at the moment. The key turns smoothly in the lock, and at least he can stop looking for a ride. 

Resigning himself to his fate, Dean takes his spot in the driver’s seat, and pauses for a few moments to breathe. So what if his Baby didn’t seem to exist in this world, he has a car and nothing else about his plan has to change. 

_Step One: Figure out how to escape_

From his one and only experience with what appears to be a similar situation, Dean knows that his current best bet is to just play along and hopefully meet the unknown requirements to progress to the next level. It’s a lot like playing an arcade game for the very first time, he thinks. You have a general idea of the controls, but don’t know all of the little inherent rules that govern this made up world. Until he tries and fails, those will be secrets of the designer, so what better way to begin learning than to jump right in and give it a go. 

That of course means, he is going to follow along with the only plans he currently has, which is a date with an undeniably interested Dr. Novak (if this winking smiley on the business card is any indication). Since it took him a bit longer than he assumed to find his car, there really isn’t enough time left to actually go too far from the hospital before he’d have to turn right back around to pick up Cas. 

Taking a moment to himself, Dean lets the stillness of the car sitting hidden away in the parking garage wash over him. He thinks about his family. The last time he saw them, he was saying goodnight before heading off to bed after a particularly wonderful family dinner. Where were any of them right now? Were they trapped in this place too? After many years of running and always expecting the worst to happen, Dean is almost ashamed to admit that these past few weeks at the bunker -at _home_ , he thinks- have softened him unexpectedly. While he certainly hasn’t given up hunting, he is definitely doing it less often, actually allowing other hunters to pick up the slack as it turns out he doesn’t need to do everything 100% by himself for it to get done right. 

This routine they’ve all fallen into at home sometimes makes him feel like he’s living in some weird version of a Full House sitcom style show, except any show based on his life would be cancelled after a single episode, so he’s pretty sure this is reality. 

Well, maybe _this_ isn’t. Whatever this is, that he’s currently experiencing, Dean is pretty positive it isn’t reality, but rather some dramatic knockoff version of the world he lives in. The names might be the same, but these are definitely not the same actors. 

Knowing it is not going to be this simple, Dean picks up the cell phone he found in his pocket and tries calling Sam and his Mom. Both calls go straight to that frustrating message stating “ _The number you are trying to reach is no longer in service._ ” and he really isn’t sure why he bothers when he dials Cas’ cell number as a last resort. 

He had noticed earlier when Dr. Novak gave him that business card that the phone number on it hadn’t been Actual-Cas’ cell. So he thought there might be a slim chance that he’d get through but instead is met with that same old unrecognized number spiel.

With just about a half hour left until Go-Time, Dean decides he might as well see what other useful things he can find in his possession, starting with the trunk. If his Baby were here he’d know exactly what he was going to find when opening the rear of the car, but it is anyone’s guess what this old clunker has in store. 

Popping the latch near the driver’s seat, he hops out, rounding the back of the vehicle. Peeking inside, he sees, well, absolutely nothing interesting at all. A spare tire, jumper cables, and an umbrella. 

“Well, I don’t know what I expected”, he mumbles to himself while closing the trunk lid and sliding back into the driver’s seat. 

“What in the...hell?” he whispers, suddenly noticing the large beautifully wrapped bouquet of flowers now sitting on the passenger seat. Glancing all around the parking garage, he doesn’t see a single other person, almost as if the flowers just appeared out of thin air. Which, considering everything else that’s happened to him today, they just might have. Considering he’s about to go pick up a date, he suspects the flowers are intended to help woo the good Doctor, and well he’s playing along.

It’s almost time to pick up Castiel, so he drives to the staff entrance and waits in the parking lot since he’s a few minutes early. Looking across the lot, he picks out a familiar face shuffling towards a car, arms loaded down with a couple gym bags. It’s definitely Cas, well, Dr. Novak, and Dean doesn’t seem to realize he’s staring as the doctor bends over to place his bags in the backset. It’s only when another car door slams somewhere across the lot that Dean snaps out of it and realizes that he feels like a giant creep, settling on willing his face to return to a normal, non-tomato color while his eyes are suddenly glued to his hands in his lap. 

It’s because he’s so focused on not ogling that Dean totally misses the doctor’s approach, and suddenly he’s jumping a foot in the air at an unexpected knock to his window. Looking up he’s met with Castiel standing way too close to a window that comes to exactly waist height on him, and Dean gives up entirely because his blush is back and apparently that’s just something he’s going to have to live with for the evening. 

In an attempt to make this even marginally less awkward, Dean quickly jumps out of the car, to greet Cas who leans in immediately to give him a polite yet friendly hug, which Dean automatically returns, then chides himself for the automatic response to not-his-actual-best-friend. 

Oblivious to Dean’s inner turmoil, or at least kind enough not to call him out on it, Castiel greets him with a soft, yet happy, “Hello”, and then he’s rounding Dean’s car to the climb in the passenger seat. Taking a deep breath he refocuses, willing his heart rate to slow, before throwing on his signature smile and charming persona while he resumes his place behind the wheel. 

“I was pleased to see you actually out here, Dean. I wasn’t entirely sure if you’d seriously take me up on my offer on such short notice,” Cas starts shyly. Dean can tell there’s some insecurity in that remark, but for the life of him he can’t figure out why. Who wouldn’t want to go on a date with a hot successful doctor? Then he’s kicking himself again because he just called this Cas look-alike hot in his head, but he did decide to play along for the night. 

“Of course, I’m here Cas.” he replies, glancing over, realizing Cas is holding the bouquet of flowers. 

“These are beautiful, by the way. Thank you, Dean.” And Cas looks up, meeting his gaze with one of those brilliant gummy smiles that makes Dean’s heart hurt. His Cas has only smiled like that a handful of times in the years they’ve known each other and Dean can’t ever recall any of them happening because of something he directly did to make Cas happy. 

Brushing off his woe, Dean returns Cas’ smile and starts the engine, realizing he has no idea where to take them for dinner. “So Cas, I’m actually not that familiar with the area right around here. So I thought maybe you’d like to pick where we go to eat? I’m not picky, except, maybe some place with meat. Not like one of those new-age vegan places or something.” Then he realizes what if this Cas is a vegan and he just offended him, rushing to add “Unless you’re a vegan or something, which is totally fine if you’re in to that, I just meant, I’d prefer someplace that- uh- no offence if you are? I’m going to shut up now.” There was that burning heat coloring his cheeks again, as Dean notices Cas’ crooked smile in reaction to his nerves. 

“I know just the place. Pull out of the parking lot and make a right at that first traffic light over there.” Cas says, and Dean thanks the Gods that he was just given an out, as he takes off out of the parking lot. 

“I’m not by the way.” Cas says just as they’re reaching the traffic light, “Vegan that is. I don’t think I could live my life without a burger to cope with some of the work related stress from time to time.” 

Dean exhales an “oh thank god” in what he thinks is a quiet enough volume that Cas can’t hear him, but when he sneaks a glance across the seat and sees the smile tugging at the corner of Cas’ mouth, he thinks maybe he wasn’t as quiet as he meant to be. 

The place they end up going to is only a few city blocks from the hospital, which is good because Dean doesn’t realize just how hungry he is until they pull into the parking lot and his stomach starts growling. Surprisingly, this isn’t the type of place Dean is expecting Cas to pick, at all. From the outside it would have been so easy to just drive right past without ever giving it a glance, one of those definitely hole-in-the-wall places. But based on the number of people he can see inside through the window, it must be good and suddenly he’s worried about them actually getting a table at this time of night. 

Immediately upon parking, Dean gets out of the car and for some reason, he’s blaming autopilot but who really knows, he walk right around the front of the car to Cas’ door and opens it up for him, extending his hand for Cas to take as he gets to his feet. 

Entering the place, they somehow don’t have to wait for a table at all, even though there are people standing in the entrance way who were clearly there before them, and Dean has suspicions that when Cas suggested this place he may have already called ahead for a reservation. Within 5 minutes of parking the car outside, Dean and Cas find themselves seated in a small booth in the back corner of the place and the waitress is already on her way over to take their drink orders. 

With their server off grabbing them a couple of beers, they’re left in silence. Dean should be making normal first date small talk, except a table across from them ordered what looks like a bacon cheeseburger and Dean is practically drooling based on the smell and sight alone. He hears the telltale sign of someone clearing their throat to get his attention and is once again feeling embarrassed as Cas is smirking at him with a look that is entirely too self-satisfied for Dean’s liking. 

“I figured you might be interested in some of the food items on the menu here.” Cas says, grinning. And that smug look of satisfaction at having figured Dean out stays firmly in place on his face through the entire time the waitress returns to take their order and Dean mumbles his way begrudgingly through ordering that very same cheeseburger. 

Now that the food orders are in they are really left alone to sit and talk and suddenly Dean doesn’t know how far this date is really supposed to go. How long is he going to have to play along to convince whoever is in charge of this whole charade that he’s serious about following the rules before he can advance to whatever is waiting for him next. 

So, with no other choice, the next half hour is spent with Dean being his absolute most suave and charismatic, while Cas says very little in response. Dean isn’t really that interesting of a person, or so he thinks. And it’s not like he can go on about his actual life. He’s married to hunting and taking care of Sam, and he doubts this Castiel wants to hear about either of those things.So he makes up some outlandish stories of adventure and activity. Explaining hobbies he has, and places he’s been, none of which are actually true. 

It’s only when Dean makes a comment that ends with a very over exaggerated wink that he realizes Castiel might actually not be into this persona at all. And if he wasn’t so focused on treating this whole thing like a game he has to win, Dean might have realized early on that aside from a couple remarks about passing the salt, and thanking the server for refilling his beer, Cas hasn’t really said anything during this meal at all. It’s just been a series of nods while he politely chews his own burger, and small completely-forced smiles in response to Dean’s horrible jokes. 

And while Dean really has no reason to care about what this fictional Cas is feeling towards him, because it’s entirely likely that this version of Cas won’t even exist when Dean moves on to the next trial of sorts, he still finds himself having a difficult time sitting across from him on this date knowing that he isn’t thrilled with Dean’s performance. 

And that right there is the problem isn’t it, Dean realizes. It’s a performance, and Cas is seeing right through it. While they may be totally different beings, apparently this Castiel has inherited the same ability his Cas has, in seeing through Dean’s bullshit. 

He thinks maybe he should just give Castiel an out. Make up some excuse about knowing how he’s probably tired after his shift, and give him the chance to head home as if this was only due to exhaustion and not utter disinterest in Dean beyond physical traits. But then, if this date wasn’t meant to go well, why was he forced on it in the first place. Dean Winchester is a lot of things, but a quitter isn’t one of them. 

So he adjusts. Takes a moment to mentally throw away his playboy caricature and is just, himself. He asks Castiel questions about his life, how he became a doctor, what kind of music he’s interested in, his favorite flavor of pie. And Cas seems to notice the abrupt shift in conversation because now his eyes have more light to them, he’s smiling more and it’s not forced, and he’s even leaning forward a little more, closer to the center of the table, closer to Dean. They continue this way, for an indeterminate amount of time, neither of them noticing the server taking away their empty plates, or dropping off their slices of pie that they decided they had to have after the earlier heated discussion where apple versus cherry was debated passionately by both sides. 

And this conversation is just so easy that Dean almost forgets it really isn’t real. And that thought, even though it’s fleeting, is enough to drag him right back to Earth and his momentary high is completely gone. They’re sitting in companionable silence right now, the first real pause in the conversation since Dean took on a new attitude towards the whole thing, and Cas looks like he wants to say something but keeps stopping himself at the last moment. 

“Just spit it out, Castiel.” Dean finally calls him out. 

Cas looks startled that he was that transparent for a minute, but he has the same tells as Angel Cas so he stands no chance against Dean. “To be honest, at the beginning of our meal, while you were telling me about yourself I honestly wondered how someone like you agreed to go out with someone like me.” 

And now Dean is completely lost because he is sure that was not where Cas was going with that, and the confusion must read on his face because Cas continues. 

“What I mean to say is, I’m a doctor Dean. My work is pretty much my entire life. I have long hours, and unpredictable schedules and I’m often so tired by the time I walk out of the building that I’m not very good company elsewhere. So, hearing you speak so candidly about all of the wonderful things you’re doing, I felt like I didn’t have much to offer to the discussion. I was actually about to offer you a get out of jail free card to end the date early but uh, I guess I never got around to actually voicing that. I’m glad though, that uh, that we stayed to finish the meal.” 

And Dean is floored. 

In all the possible situations he thinks Cas would bring up, confirming that both of them thought the other wasn’t interested or good enough for each other is not one of them. And Dean thinks, well if this isn’t just the exact story of his and his-Castiel’s life. Both of them assuming what they’re doing isn’t good enough for each other and making an independent decision for the other’s own good that couldn’t be farther from the truth. 

And then the idea is just so ridiculous, so ludicrous that he’s laughing, a full body, head tilted back, hysterical laugh, and Cas is so totally confused about this sudden outburst, but soon he’s laughing too, because well, Dean’s laughter turns out to be infectious. 

When Dean’s calmed himself down enough, wiping a few errant tears from his eyes, he looks across to Cas who has a fond smile on his face. 

“I’m glad we stayed and finished the meal too, man.” And suddenly Dean glances around the place and realizes it’s gotten very quiet in here and somehow they’re the only ones left in the restaurant. All the chairs are tipped up on the tables, and there's a guy in the corner mopping the entrance to the kitchen, so Dean gets up, dropping a few bills on the table to cover the check. 

Extending his hand towards Cas to help him up out of the booth, he smiles, “What do you say we get you back to your ride before they lock us in here for the night.” 

Cas just smiles and easily takes the offered hand, though he doesn’t let go like Dean thinks he’s going to once he’s on his feet. Usually Dean might be too embarrassed to be seen holding hands with another guy in public, but they are the only ones in here, so he lets Castiel lead him out the door and back to the car. 

They arrive back at the hospital staff parking lot entirely too quickly and Dean realizes he had a really great night. Best night in recent memory actually, and it’s even sadder that this isn’t actually his real life. 

Dean parks in the spot next to Cas’ car that he’d seen him fiddling around in earlier, and the silence that was comfortable on the way back from the restaurant now seems suffocating in the stillness of the moment. Cas turns towards him and Dean’s heartbeat ratchets up a couple of notches as he realizes just how close this front seat puts them. 

“Thank you for dinner tonight, Dean. I had a really wonderful time.” Cas says softly, and Dean doesn’t miss the way the doctor’s eyes flip down quickly to his lips before they bounce back up again, meeting Dean’s gaze. 

Dean swallows hard, wondering once again, how far he’s supposed to be taking this fantasy scenario, but he politely manages, “It was no problem, Cas, I had a good time too.” 

Before he can think of something to say that will aid in his escape, Cas is leaning towards him and for a second he panics that this Cas is going to try to kiss him goodnight or something but then arms are coming up to wrap around him in another one of those polite but friendly hugs, and Dean breathes a sigh of relief. He returns the hug, a little awkwardly considering they’re two grown men stuffed in the front seat of a car, and Dean almost misses it when Cas pecks him lightly on the cheek as he’s pulling out of the embrace. 

Dean’s thankful it’s dark in the car, because he’s a million shades of red, darker than he has been all night, as Cas winks at him before hopping out of the passenger seat and shutting the door. 

“Call me”, is all Cas says as he walks away to his car. 

Dean watches him for a second too long, and he thinks Cas probably knows he is staring or else he’s imagining that extra swing to Cas’ hips as he strolls away. Dean snaps out of it, and quickly throws the car into drive, pulling back out onto the road before he dwells any longer on why such a small innocent sign of affection from this man threw him off his game so badly. 

He doesn’t know where he’s driving to, it’s not like he has any place to be as far as he knows, and he almost swerves off the road into a ditch when his cell phone rings. He struggles to get it out of his pocket while it continues ringing and he doesn’t even bother looking at who’s calling before picking it up. So he’s even more surprised to hear the Doctor’s- Cas’- voice on the other end. 

It’s only been maybe 5 or 6 minutes at most since he took off from the parking lot, and when Cas says his “Hello, Dean” there’s no way he misses the relief but also obvious frustration in Cas’ tone. 

Unsure what could have changed in the past 5 minutes, Dean begins tentatively, “Uh, hey Cas, what’s up?” He thinks about making a joke, almost on reflex at this point, but he remembers how well his fake flirty persona went over at dinner and stops himself. 

“It seems my car battery is dead, or at least, best I can tell that’s the reason my car won’t start. Would you be able to assist in giving me a jump. I am sorry to take up any more of your time tonight, I just, uh, figured you might not be that far away yet, and uh-” 

Dean takes mercy on him this time before he rambles himself into oblivion. “I’ll be there in 5 minutes, Cas. It’s not problem.” 

When Dean pulls back into the staff parking lot, Cas is sitting inside his darkened car, arms crossed in what is a clear sign of frustration of that extremely furrowed brow is anything to go by. 

For a second, Dean’s worried. His hunter instinct isn’t something he can ignore lightly and as he’s pulling up to the dark lot, words like “trap” and “ambush” pop into his head before he remembers this is already a trap so the likelihood of monsters jumping out from the shadows here is slim. 

He parks in the spot next to Cas again, getting out and coming directly over to where Cas is seated with the driver’s side door wide open. Cas is still looking pretty grumpy and for some reason Dean just can’t stand to see that frown for one second longer, so he puts on his best southern drawl when he plants his hands on the roof of the car, leaning down to Cas’ eye level as he says, “Hey handsome, need a jump?” 

Dean forgets to blush this time, because he’s too busy be proud of putting the reluctant yet amused smile on Cas’ face as he looks up to greet him. 

He doesn’t wait for a response, instead going to pop the hood on the car, and open his trunk for the jumper cables he thankfully noticed earlier when he was killing time in the parking garage. Setting everything up only takes him a minute or two, and Cas stands quietly just off to the side, seemingly content to let Dean do this work for him. 

It only takes two turnovers before Cas’ car is running like normal and Dean unhooks everything, closing all necessary compartments, putting the jumper cables back where he found them. Shutting the trunk of his car, he turns to go back over and address Cas, but instead finds him suddenly directly behind Dean and he definitely jumps at least foot in the air at the sudden closeness. 

“Jesus, Cas. I’m gonna have to put a bell on you.” He says, before taking in the glint in Cas’ eyes. Now this situation has taken on an entirely different tone, and Dean is at a loss for words not because he’s surprised, but rather, all the air’s been punched out of his lungs as Cas takes a slow step even closer. 

He doesn’t feel threatened in any way, well not in any way that he doesn't actually kind of enjoy, because the look in Cas’ eye screams a certain type of promise Dean isn’t sure he can make but suddenly kind of wants to find out. 

Cas is moving so very slowly towards him and Dean feels like it's deliberate so he has time to stop him at any point if this advance is unwanted. And well, that’s where Dean is in this thought process isn’t he. Because this is definitely not unwanted, and yet, this is maybe intent directed at the wrong Cas. And by the time he’s thoroughly confused with himself and his intentions the back of his knees are hitting the trunk and he’s plunked down against it as he’s listening to Cas thank him for dinner again in what is probably the deepest, pure-gravel sex voice Dean’s ever heard. And Dean knows, inherently knows, that even with the almost exact physical mirror of his Castiel standing in front of him, coming on to him so blatantly, that still, he knows it isn’t actually his Cas, but he’s having such a hard time stopping himself from giving in to years of repressed thoughts that are nagging at the surface when faced with a Castiel, any version of a Castiel, right in his immediate space. 

Dean’s body is on fire now, and it’s only been 10, maybe 15 seconds since Cas stopped his advance but Dean realizes he’s been holding his breath, and his skin feels too tight and holy shit when did Dean put his hands on Cas’ hips. Like it was the most natural thing in the world, the two of them, just leaning there, mere inches between them, holding each other, staring into each other’s eyes. And just when Dean thinks he can’t possibly take this tension any more, that everything inside of him is about to combust, Cas leans just a fraction of a hair closer and whispers, “Thanks again for your help, and hey Dean?”

Dean isn’t sure if he actually manages to form a “What, Cas?” or if it’s just a whine embarrassingly squeaking out of his throat, but Cas continues anyway. 

“Don’t wait **too** long before giving me a call.” Then Cas lays the smoothest wink on him and glides away back to his car which is pulling out of the parking lot by the time Dean regains motor function. 

Feeling all kinds of conflicting boughts between arousal and horrific embarrassment, Dean hurriedly makes his way back into the driver's seat, slamming the door a little harder than necessary in his awkward haste. 

Leaning forward, he lets his eyes close as his forehead hits the steering wheel. He tries to make any sense of what in the hell just happened, but all he can see behind his eyelids are impeccably blue eyes and that damn crooked smile and all he can think about is the feeling of being locked under that so very serious gaze while he was pressed up against the car and how that should not have affected him as strongly as it did. 

“Fuck” he mutters, “I am so screwed.” 

Dean isn’t sure how long he stays face down against the steering wheel, but he doesn’t have any plans of moving since the sound of the waves cresting is kind of relaxing until he realizes he’s getting kind of warm from the direct sunlight hitting his back. And those freaking seagulls won’t stop squawking overhead, and-

“Sunlight...Waves...Seagulls?” Suddenly Dean’s head snaps up as he takes in his surroundings, 

“Oh shit!”


	5. A Life on the Ranch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel spends some more time on the ranch, getting a taste of a life he's only imagined possible, while still trying to figure out how to get back to the one he's supposed to be living.

\----Castiel----

Somehow, resting for a few minutes in the guest bedroom actually puts Cas to sleep. Typically he doesn’t sleep, but this world seems to be governed by a slightly different set of rules where he’s just a little more human than usual. 

When he wakes up, it’s still light outside, but clear that the sun is on it’s way back to the horizon as twilight creeps up through the sky. He’s still alone in the bedroom, and can’t hear any movement outside the door so he takes the time alone to think. As soon as he leaves this bedroom, he’s going to have to figure out where to go, and he honestly can’t think of a place that would make sense to head towards. Sure, Texas is pretty close to Kansas, but he has a feeling, based on his earlier fruitless phone calls, that the bunker probably doesn’t exist in this universe, or if it does, Dean, Sam and Mary probably don’t live there. 

It still doesn’t make a whole lot of sense why he’s being kept here. What is the point of all this fantasy? Why force him, and for all he knows the rest of his family, through this make believe scenario? What is he supposed to gain from this? He supposes that will be made clear to him eventually, but for now he realizes sleep isn’t the only human need he’s been gifted with, as he’s reminded of all the water he drank upon first arriving to Dean’s house. 

After a quick stop in the bathroom, Cas makes his way into the living room and is hit with a wonderful smell that appears to be coming from the kitchen. Following the soft sound of music, and low hum of a voice singing along, he makes his way down the hallway to the other half of the rancher. He stops when he finds the doorway to the kitchen, as it's obvious Dean still hasn’t noticed he’s awake. 

The man is at the stove, stirring a large pot of what Cas thinks might be chili by the individual scents he can pick up out of the air. He watches Dean for a minute, knowing his Dean would take this opportunity to remind him it’s creepy to stare at people, especially without their knowledge, but Cas can’t help it. 

Dean is singing along to the music and he has a beautiful voice, matching the pitch of the original singer quite well. Rufus is seated right at Dean’s feet, obviously expecting to receive some food whether by accident or maybe Dean is comfortable giving him table scraps. But all Cas can think, is that he can’t remember the last time- it has to have been years at this point, if ever- when he saw Dean this, content. And he knows it’s not the Dean he knows, but it’s impossible to not be reminded of the one in his world when they’re near identical. His head bobbing along to the rhythm, stirring and occasionally tasting the mixture in the pot, hips swaying at a particularly heavy instrumental solo, he just looks so happy, so...carefree. 

And it hurts. It hurts a lot more than Cas expects it to. He likes to think he knows Dean Winchester pretty well at this point, and so he knows better now. After years of getting to the core of what Dean was all about- which is funny since he technically started at Dean’s core when he rebuilt him from a tattered soul and bits of stardust and grace- but he knows now that Dean wouldn’t want his pity. And moreso, he doesn’t need it. As much as his hunter is a man built from the unfortunate circumstances of his childhood, he is just as much a product of his own free will. They’ve all made mistakes, and their stunted levels of happiness are as much their own fault as they are the world’s. After all, isn’t that one of the first lessons Dean taught Cas after they officially met? The importance of free will. 

But even though Cas can never tell him, even though he wishes with his whole being that Dean will understand, he knows that while Dean does a lot of things with the ease of perfection only found after a lifetime of practice, taking compliments is just something he never seems to pick up. 

So Cas hasn’t told him how proud of Dean he is for overcoming so many challenges no human should have to face once let alone over and over. Or how honored he feels to be a part of Dean’s chosen family. Or that meeting Dean, and taking the time to listen to him, despite having no basis for whether or not Dean even understood the scale of the war they were fighting, was the best decision of his life. Or how much pain Cas has felt because of Dean, or in spite of him, or in his name, or defense, but it’s all felt worth it because he’s also been shown the opposite end of that spectrum and the highs wouldn’t have felt as grand without all those lows. 

It’s at this point that Dean leans down to give Rufus a scrap from the nearby cutting board that he catches Castiel watching him from the doorway, and Cas must have let some of his feelings for his bleed through to his expression because Dean blushes almost immediately under the soft gaze and Cas is again taken aback at how different this Dean is despite being identical in every visible way. 

“I’m sorry for startling you,” Cas says softly, “My- friend- once told me he was thinking of putting a bell on me because I have a tendency to not announce my presence.”

“Your friend might have a good idea goin’ with that one,” Dean chuckles, surprisingly not mad at being startled. 

Cas decides to change the subject, “Whatever you’re making smells wonderful,” he says as he takes a step further into the kitchen. 

Dean waves him over to the stove, and Rufus seems to know that he’s no longer a part of this conversation because the old dog gets up and trots off to another part of the house. Cas nears the stove and his suspicions are confirmed that it is indeed chili bubbling in the pot before him. 

They stand in silence for a minute while Dean continues to stir the pot slowly, and it’s a comfortable silence with each of them seemingly lost in their own thoughts. Dean breaks the silence by reaching in front of Castiel, pulling open a small drawer and taking out a spoon. 

“Here,” he says while dipping the spoon into the pot, “give it a try,” motioning towards Cas’ face with a steaming spoonful of the chili. Cas isn’t sure of the proper manners here, but Dean makes up his mind for him, when he moves the spoon right up to Cas’ closed mouth. 

“It’s good, I promise, old family recipe.” And now he’s all but nudging Cas’ mouth open with the spoon, and Cas is once again thankful his angelic grace hides any trace of blush, as he takes the spoonful from Dean as he feeds it to him. 

And Dean is right, it _is_ good. Wonderful really. And Cas doesn’t even stop the groan of appreciation that bubbles up as the flavors explode on his tongue. And now Cas realizes that was maybe a little too much vocalization as a deep blush creeps up Dean’s neck coloring his face in the same way Cas is sure his would be too at his sudden embarrassment. 

Clearing his throat and taking a half step back, Cas normalizes his expression before replying, “Yes, it is very good, Dean.”

Clearly flustered, Dean mumbles a “Thanks” before putting the spoon in the sink and turning off the stove. Blush having receded he turns to Cas, “Are you hungry? I’m still happy to take you wherever you’re going when you’re ready, but this is finished, and if you’re hungry there’s more than enough.” 

He seems shy all of a sudden, like he isn’t sure Cas would want to spend more time here than necessary, which is a strange contrast to the closeness he felt so comfortable with at the stove seconds ago. 

“I’d love to join you for a meal. If it’s not too much trouble that is.” Cas replies, though, it’s not like he really has any other plan figured out so he’s thankful for this delay in having to decide anything. 

Dean hands him a stack of bowls, utensils and napkins then follows him into the connected dining room. It’s small, but the table is big enough for four and Cas sets their places as Dean scoops large helpings of chili into each of their bowls. He returns to the kitchen while Cas takes a seat, and comes back with some shredded cheese, sour cream and a couple of beers. 

Gesturing to the bottles in his hand he’s wordlessly asking Cas if he’s fine with beer, and Cas nods as he marvels at how silent communication seems to be a common trait they share in every universe. 

They eat in silence for a few minutes, before Cas tries making small talk. “So you said this is a family recipe, was someone in your family a chef?” 

Dean snorts out a laugh while shaking his head in the negative. “No, definitely not, but man would that have made my mom laugh to hear you call her a chef. She wasn’t very good at making anything that required more steps than throwing all the ingredients into a single pot and stirring.”

Cas is smiling, thankful he hadn’t offended Dean, but also interested in the apparent difference in relationship this Dean had with his mother. Clearly he got more time with her than his Dean had. “Are you close with your mother?”, he asks, not meaning to pry but curiosity getting the better of him. 

A flash of sadness washes across Dean’s features and he sets his spoon down for a moment and Cas is instantly sorry he asked. Dean recovers quickly, looking up to meet Cas’ eyes with a resigned expression, and it’s only because Cas is so very used to studying Dean’s expressions that he notes the underlying pain at reliving whatever memory he’s about to recount. 

“Uh, yeah, well, I was- yes. Back before- uh,” Dean pauses for a second, only lowering his eyes for a minute, seeming to decide on something before bringing them back up to look at Cas again. “She died.” he says plainly, and Cas can tell he’s repeating something that sounds more like a script with emotion carefully extracted from the sentence. “Her and my- well I had a brother, Sam, he was younger, but uh, they were driving to visit colleges. Sam see, he was a genius. Like Einstein level brilliant, ya know? Meant for way bigger things than running this ranch. And he had this appointment with Stanford, they wanted to give him a full scholarship. That’s how smart he was, they wanted to actually pay for the entire thing.” 

Cas’ heart is breaking, knowing exactly where this story is headed even if the specifics aren’t clear to him yet. Seeing the light in Dean’s eyes at talking about Sam, Cas can’t help but smile albeit sadly as Dean continues his story 

“There was an accident. The night after they toured the campus, I guess mom wanted to take him to dinner to celebrate and uh a- I guess they said the other guy was drunk or something, I don’t know. But uh, they didn’t make it,” he finishes softly and Cas can see the wetness shining in those green eyes and he doesn’t hesitate before reaching across the table to cover Dean’s hand in a gesture of comfort. 

“I’m so sorry Dean,” and Cas finds it hard to stop the tears springing in his eyes as he thinks of a Dean in any existence living a life without his brother at his side. Living a life entirely alone. 

“Ah, well,” Dean swipes at his eyes quickly, clearing his throat, “That was awhile ago,” and then he seems to realize he’s just unloaded all his baggage on this stranger, because Cas sees him straighten up, and Cas pulls his hand back. 

“Thank you, Dean, really.” Cas emphasizes and though he doesn’t make clear whether he’s talking about all the sharing or the meal, Dean seems to understand as he allows a small smile to creep back onto his face. 

They finish eating mostly in silence but it’s comfortable again, and when they’re done Dean collects their dishes and this time Cas grabs the pot with the leftovers and follows him back to the kitchen. Dean loads the dishwasher while Cas pours the rest of the chili into a plastic storage container and is just thankful Dean actually let him help with the cleanup. It strikes him suddenly how domestic this whole thing is but he tries not to think on it too much lest he grows used to something he knows he can’t have in reality. 

Dean suggests having Cas try the numbers he called earlier, seeing if maybe someone will pick up this time, and while Cas knows with almost 100% certainty that won’t be the case, he tries anyway, number after number to the same end. When he sets the phone back down after trying the last possible number he turns around to see Dean looking at him with an unexpected expression. 

He appears almost sad again, and Cas isn’t sure why he’d be having that reaction to Cas making a few unhelpful phone calls. 

“No luck, huh?” Dean says softly, and the tone in his voice is once again confusing because he’s talking to Cas like he’s a lost child who might need comforting. 

“Uh, no, I guess they’re all- out.” Cas replies lamely, and Dean’s frown deepens. 

“You know,” Dean starts, then seems to think carefully about his words before continuing, “if, for some reason, you needed to stay here longer, like if you uh, couldn’t get ahold of anyone, just yet, you seem like a good guy, Cas, and like I said, I live here alone- what I mean is, I have the room.” He finishes, looking Cas in the eye to get across the sincerity of his point. 

Cas’ heart has a warm fuzzy feeling, and he lets the smile threatening to escape stretch his face into what he’s hopes is a warm expression. Dean’s smile in response seems to be a good sign, as Cas replies, “That’s very kind of you Dean. I wouldn’t wish to impose on your beautiful home, but, if I’m being honest, I uh- I’m not sure that I exactly have a place to go at the moment.” and he can’t help but drop his eyes to the floor as he realizes what he just admitted about his situation. 

So Cas startles when he doesn’t realize Dean has stepped closer to him, using his thumb to raise Cas’ face so they’re meeting each other’s gazes again. Dean’s smile is still in place but it’s softer now, as he admits, “If **I’m** being honest, and to be clear, I’m not sure why I feel so comfortable telling you all this when I just met you a few hours ago on the side of the road, but uh, it gets kind of lonely out here, not that Rufus isn’t good company, but uh, it would be nice to have someone to talk to for a little while anyways.” 

And before Cas can get over the shock of Dean’s blunt honesty, something that his Dean and this one definitely didn’t have in common, Dean is heading off into the living room and plopping himself down on the couch, calling over his shoulder, “Wanna watch a movie, Cas?”

They spend the rest of the night watching what Dean refers to as “The Classics”, but Cas suspects some of these Sci-Fi B movies might not make everyone’s Classics list. It’s a companionable stretch of time and Cas almost forgets he’s supposed to be figuring out how to escape because he’s having such a nice evening. This Dean is a lot freer with his emotions and Cas gives in to the temptations of soaking them all in, savoring every smile, wink, and laugh that finds it’s way out of Dean throughout their viewing party. 

They eat popcorn, and Dean shows him the tricks he’s taught Rufus which mostly involve sitting in a specific spot or lying down with a particularly funny tilt of his head, he is an old dog after all, but that all end with Rufus getting his own piece of popcorn. 

After the third movie Dean lets out a loud exaggerated yawn, stretching his arms high above his head as Castiel tries in vain to avert his eyes from the sliver of skin that’s exposed on Dean’s stomach. He catches Cas looking though, and actually throws him a wink which Castiel almost can’t believe, but Dean’s laughter cements the reality of it all. 

“Well Cas, I’m pretty beat. I’m gonna head off to bed. You’re more’n welcome to keep watchin’ or, you know where the guest room is. I’ll drop off some clothes for you to sleep in so you aren’t stuck in that suit.” Dean says around another yawn, as he gets up and moves down the hallway. 

Cas is actually pretty tired too, so he gets up following Dean down the fall, as he heads back to his guest room. He’s folding his suit jacket over the chair in the room when Dean enters with the clothing he mentioned. 

“Well, here ya go Cas. Sleep well, and if you need anything you know where to find me.” Dean smiles while handing over the clothing and their hands meet briefly during the exchange. Their eyes meet and Cas is sure, that even with his lack of experience, the charge he feels between them isn’t his imagination. 

“Thank you Dean,” he’s pretty sure he’s whispering but for the life of him can’t make his voice less breathy, “Goodnight.” 

And then the door is closing and Cas is left alone with his thoughts. 

\---

The next morning comes quickly as Cas awakes from a deep sleep feeling refreshed in a way he hasn’t in a long time. He’s not sure what to expect but Dean doesn’t push for him to leave at any point and they spend the next two days actually just coexisting in this little ranch house, with Rufus, lots of movies and an increasing amount of shared laugher as Dean continues to open up to him and Cas tells stories of silly things Sam and his Dean have done over the years, with the names changed of course. He’s surprised that Dean never asks why Cas has all these stories of friends he now suddenly can’t seem to get ahold of. And Cas is so content that he almost doesn’t care anymore that he’s spent 3 days in this make-believe dream version of Earth with a Dean that probably only exists as an illusion for this little game. 

It’s the evening of his third day on the ranch and they’ve just finished another wonderful meal prepared by Dean, another family recipe of course, and are sitting down in the living room to finish the third Lord of the Rings movie, extended edition of course, when Cas makes an unexpected decision. 

Dean’s just sat down placing the popcorn bowl between them, and they’ve both reached in grabbing large handfuls as the opening scene starts to play. Cas is wrapped up in Frodo’s voyage to destroy the Ring, so he doesn’t expect the handful of popcorn Dean had picked up to come launching at the side of his face and he sits there stunned for a moment before looking over at Dean incredulously. 

Dean is trying so very hard to hold back his laughter but the look on Cas’ face and the pieces of popcorn still stuck in his hair prove to be too much and soon he’s wiping away tears as he laughs hysterically, the richness in tone making Cas laugh along with him even if he is the punchline in this joke. 

It’s only after Cas takes it upon himself to return the favor by chucking a piece of popcorn expertly into Dean’s open mouth that the war breaks out. And soon the movie is completely lost as they resort to diving behind the furniture chucking what kernels of popcorn they can grab off the ground before Rufus snatches them up. There’s so much laughter filling the house and the battle is only declared won, by Dean, when he picks up the entire remaining bowl dumping it over the back of the couch where Cas is not so secretly hiding. 

Dean joins him on the floor afterwards, taking pity on Cas and brushing popcorn out of his hair and they’re both still suffering the effects of continuous laughter for the past half hour, out of breath with permanent smiles plastered on their faces. The way Dean’s fluffing the popcorn out of his hair Cas suspects is actually just a ruse to mess it up further because Dean seems entirely too amused with himself. And it’s just nice. Being close like this and as Dean brings his hand down, tucking one last errant strand of hair out of the way as he goes, Cas meets his eyes and there’s that spark again pulling at him as if Dean has his own gravitational field. 

It’s then, staring into green eyes from merely a foot away, that Cas decides he can’t possibly go back to living his life without this casual comfort between him and the real Dean. He’s spent years carefully metering his interactions lest he scare him away and risk a strain to their friendship just because Castiel has unrequited feelings but he just can’t seem to find the value in that strategy any longer.

But while he’d still die for Dean, or any of the Winchesters as long as he is able, he knows he can no longer be content without knowing if this is a possibility for him and his Dean. He thinks maybe this is selfish, or maybe it’s not, who’s to say. This is something worth fighting for, he has to know if Dean can possibly be as open with him as this Dean has been. He’s going to exercise his free will as soon as he figures out how to get home.

Just then a loud fight scene starts up in the movie, the heroes taking their last stand against the forces of evil, and both of their attention is drawn back to the TV. Cas swears he only glances at the screen for a second, but when he looks back towards Dean, he's gone.

Everything is gone.

He is no longer in the quiet little ranch house, the bubble of warmth turned stagnant with the acrid smell of the air around him. This world is very obviously not a welcoming place to be, and he only has a few minutes to take in his surroundings, the dead vegetation sparse between remnants of civilization. Smoke rises from cracks in the ground and he almost misses the figure walking towards him through the steam. It is only when the figure gets close that Cas can make out the face. 

“Dean-” he gasps. Startled by the bloodied appearance the man has. But the way he’s moving doesn’t make it appear that he’s in any way injured. So where did all that blood come from? 

“Well, what do we have here? An angel? All alone with no backup? It must be my lucky day,” the man coos, and while it’s certainly Dean’s voice, something about it is deeper, darker than usual. 

His tone sends a chill of recognition down Cas’ spine. He’s only ever heard Dean’s voice take on that rough tone once before, and yet he's still horrified when he looks up into Dean’s eyes to find not the mossy green he so badly wants to see, but rather the cold, lifeless black of a demon staring back at him. 

“Oh, no,” Cas whispers, “Please, not again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooo another chapter in the same week! Life got in the way there for a bit, but now that I'm back into this story, I'm BACK into it. I already have the next chapter outlined, and the entire story mapped out high level. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has been patient and hung in there between updates. I promise I will get to the comments I haven't replied to yet, but I just want to say to my regular readers you give me life and I love reading your thoughts and predictions for what's to come in the next worlds we're about to visit. Some of you may even be pretty close at guessing the next chapter but you'll just have to wait and see ;) And to my new readers, welcome to the family <3 I hope you'll stick with us until the end!
> 
> As always, <3


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